


wait for me to come home

by restitched (beingothrwrldly)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, NHL Trade(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 18:43:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingothrwrldly/pseuds/restitched
Summary: “Hi,” Jordan says. “What're you doing, were you sleeping?”Ryan yawns and shakes his head. “No.”Behind him, Jordan can see that all the lights in the room are off. The television is on a blue screen and Ryan’s hair is messed up in the back, and he’s wearing an old t-shirt and basketball shorts. The bedsheets are pulled back and rumpled.Jordan scrunches up his nose. “It’s unbelievable that you’re lying to my face right now,” he says, and Ryan grabs his wrist and pulls him inside.





	wait for me to come home

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a few more little snapshots about Ryan Nugent-Hopkins and Jordan Oesterle dealing with playing on different teams and stuff, and somehow it turned into like, an entire photo album or something. I don't know how to explain this. 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, this is kinda non-linear in that it skips some time between snapshots. It also switches back and forth between their POVs, if that's not your thing. The title is from Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Years later, Jordan will realize that he has absolutely no memory of what anybody talked about at dinner, the night they all went out during All-Star Weekend. He has no memory of what they ate, or who he was sitting with, or any of the specifics about the weekend itself.

But he does remember Ryan.

To be fair, he knows Ryan will be there before anybody has any plans to go, and if he’s being honest with himself, Ryan is mostly why he'd agreed to come along in the first place. But once they all sit down at the restaurant, he’s way too nervous to actually say anything, worrying endlessly that his mind would move too quick for his mouth.

So he sits at the opposite end of the table and feels like he may as well be sitting back home. He spends way too much time sneaking glances at Ryan while pretending to listen to whatever it is Klefbom is talking about.

There’s a lull in conversation when most of the attention turns towards the other end of the table, and Klefbom knocks his knee against Jordan’s under the table. “Maybe you should go for it,” he says, quiet and gentle, and Jordan thinks maybe Klefbom thinks something’s up.

“Nah,” Jordan says quietly, shaking his head and trying to keep his cool. “Out of my league, for sure.”

Klefbom watches him and shrugs. “I think that's bullshit, but okay.” He turns back to the conversation, and when Jordan looks up, he catches Ryan watching him.

After they’ve paid the bill, the guys are just milling around when Ryan goes up to the bar by himself. Klefbom pushes his knuckles against Jordan’s bicep and leaves them there, and Jordan looks over at him.

“I still think you should go for it,” he says quietly, and he grins at Jordan like he knows a secret Jordan hasn’t told him.

Klefbom _definitely_ knows something’s up.

Jordan downs the rest of his drink and goes up to the bar, and when he steps up next to Ryan, Ryan looks over at him and smiles. There’s a dimple in his cheek when he smiles like this, and he’s wearing a gray button-down shirt that makes his eyes look impossibly blue. Jordan presses his hand to the bar and feels like he’s drowning.

“Hi,” Jordan says. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling back. He hopes so, at least.

Ryan keeps smiling. “Hi.”

“You probably don't remember,” Jordan says, and he feels like an idiot, “but I'm--”

“Jordan.” Ryan nods. “I remember.”

“Oh.” Jordan nods a little, too, and his head is spinning. “Um, cool.”

Ryan’s smile gets bigger, his eyes soft. “I'm Ryan,” he says, and Jordan has to look down at his feet for a second and remind himself to breathe.

A couple of girls step up next to Jordan and he steps closer to Ryan instinctively, and then he trips on the leg of a barstool that’s tucked under the bar between them. “Shit,” Jordan says as Ryan catches him by the elbow, but even after Jordan’s steadied himself, Ryan doesn’t let go.

“What are you drinking?” Ryan asks, pushing the stool in further with the hand that isn’t on Jordan’s arm. He steps closer to Jordan and Jordan can smell his cologne and feels dizzy. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, you don't have to, to do that, I--” Jordan pauses and purses his lips. He can’t tell if Ryan is drunk or hitting on him or just being nice. He's always been absolutely terrible at telling the difference.

“I know I don't have to, but I've been watching you like, all night, and you're cute,” Ryan says gently. His eyes go a little wide and he bites his lip like he hadn't meant to say it out loud, and it’s unbearably endearing.

Jordan feels himself blushing and he scrunches up his nose and smiles. “You can't possibly mean _me_ ,” he says, aiming for just the right mix of self-deprecating and endearing. 

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan says, and he laughs a little. “I wasn't, um. I totally misread this, I...we’re teammates, I'm really sorry.” He lets go of Jordan’s arm but Jordan grabs his wrist and doesn’t step away.

“A drink would be really cool.” Jordan takes a deep breath. “And, um. You didn't misread this.” He swallows hard and shakes his head, imperceptibly. “If you had a feeling, or...or something. Whatever. You're not wrong.” He hopes Ryan knows what he means.

“Okay,” Ryan says carefully. Something in Ryan's face relaxes, and Jordan feels like Ryan knows what he means. “Then I’d really like to buy you a drink.”

-+-

Later, the music in the bar goes quiet and Jordan is watching Ryan watch the bartenders as they wipe down the bar. “We closed the place down, I think,” Ryan says softly, and he looks over at Jordan.

“It's really fucking late,” Jordan says, laughing a little. He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry to keep you out so long.”

“No, hey, it's cool.” Ryan smiles. “This was really fun, i had a really nice time.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jordan nods. “I did, too, yeah.”

Ryan stands up and gestures to the bar. “You must be staying here, right? Let me close the tab and we can go?”

Jordan nods again, and he watches as Ryan goes up to the bar. He checks his phone and has about a thousand messages from Klefbom, starting with _sorry to ditch u tonite!!!!!_ and ending with a string of eggplant emojis followed by a single peach.

“Okay,” Ryan walks back over and Jordan stands up and shoves his phone back into his pocket. “What floor are you on?”

“Third,” Jordan says.

“That's so close to the ground,” Ryan says, smiling. “Shortens our time together.”

“Why, what floor are you on?” Jordan pulls his jacket on and his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Twelve,” Ryan says. He bites his bottom lip and Jordan looks down to fumble with his zipper, because he cannot make his hands work and his head is spinning.

Then Ryan says, “Do you want to just come back to my room?” and Jordan's head snaps up.

“I mean, like, no pressure,” Ryan continues. “I just, I have my own room, and I figured you’re probably staying with some of the guys you came with, and--”

“Klefbom,” Jordan says quickly. Fucking Klefbom. “You want me to come back to your room?”

“I’m just not ready to say goodnight yet,” Ryan said quickly. “No pressure, though, seriously, if you're not feeling it--”

“Does it seem like I'm not feeling it?” Jordan asks quickly, and he immediately feels like an idiot. “Um. I'm not, like...whatever. Um. I'm feeling it, for sure.”

Ryan laughs, and Jordan is relieved to see him blushing, too. “And like, we don't have to--I'm a really solid cuddler, if that's your thing. People have told me that.”

“Who the fuck tells you that?” Jordan says, laughing a little, but he fucking _loves_ cuddling.

“All the people I've cuddled with, _obviously_ ,” Ryan says, shaking his head and smiling.

“Okay, yeah,” Jordan says, and he isn't sure where the courage came from. Probably the whiskey. “You've won me over, I’ll come up, yeah.”

As they walk to the elevator, Jordan takes his phone out and texts Klefbom. _sooo…….don't wait up, i’ll be back in the am._

Klefbom sends back about a thousand eggplant emojis, and Jordan rolls his eyes and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Klefbom thinks we’re going to hook up,” he says. “So like, everybody I’m here with will probably think that tomorrow, too. Just to give you a heads up.”

Ryan laughs. “Oh, great,” he says. “Nothing I love more than kissing and telling.”

“You do seem like the type,” Jordan says. He tries not to think about kissing Ryan, but it doesn't work. “Airing all your dirty laundry all over the place, you know.”

Ryan grins as he pushes the button for the elevator. Jordan puts his hands in his pockets while they wait, because he isn't sure he can trust himself not to touch Ryan. It seems to take forever for the doors to open, and when they do Ryan gestures and says, “After you.”

Jordan laughs and steps inside, and when the doors close he says, “Oh my god, you're such a gentleman.” The walls of the elevator are covered with mirrors and when Jordan sees his reflection, he feels like his face looks like he’s falling in love.

“Hey, it takes no effort to be nice,” Ryan says. He hasn't pushed a button for the twelfth floor, and the elevator doesn't go anywhere. Jordan isn't sure he wants it to.

“So, like, I hope this won't make things weird,” Jordan says. “If I ever...I don't know. Get called up to Edmonton.”

Ryan shakes his head. “It won't, I mean.” He smiles a little. “I hope you do get called up. I'll show you around when you do, introduce you to all the cool spots.”

Jordan’s stomach flips when Ryan says _when_. “I just don't want it to be weird if we…” He isn't sure how to finish his sentence.

“So, like, listen,” Ryan says when Jordan pauses. “If we’re being honest, I mean, I like you. I don't want it to be like, vague or whatever, I just really hope this isn't a one-time thing”

Now Jordan _really_ doesn't know how to finish his sentence. “Um,” he says instead. “Like...what?”

“Like, you're really fun to talk to,” Ryan says quickly. “You're cute, I already told you that. You have a nice smile, you're really funny. Not sure if you mean to be but you are, I really like your laugh. You're really smart, you have the nicest eyes, I can't.”

Jordan stares at him.

Ryan looks up at the ceiling of the elevator. “Hoooly shit, please say literally _anything_ so I will shut up.”

“Do you mean like, you like me and want to hook up, or you like me?” is what Jordan’s brain decides he should say, because what's better than saying something stupid? He scrunches up his face and shakes his head, because it’s _stupid_.

“I mean,” Ryan says to the ceiling, “I'm all for hooking up, but I’m also really into pumping the brakes on that if it means there's potential for like, something bigger than that.” 

Jordan laughs a little. “You can't be serious,” he says quietly, and his head is spinning but he isn't sure if it’s because of the moment or because of the alcohol. “I mean, like.” Jordan swallows hard and shakes his head. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Ryan says. He closes his eyes for a minute and then he says, “Maybe we can get dinner or something when you come to Edmonton.”

“Like a date?” Jordan watches him. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Ryan takes a deep breath and finally looks at Jordan. “I’m _bad_ at this,” he says quietly. “Alcohol makes me say the dumbest shit.”

“I think you’re _great_ at this,” Jordan says, and he can't stop smiling. “I don't know when I'll be in Edmonton, you might be waiting a while.”

“I don't care,” Ryan says, and he licks his bottom lip. “What about you,” he says, and he's smiling now, too, “if you've got dumb things to say, you should say them, too, it's only fair.”

“Dinner would be really fucking great,” Jordan says before he can stop himself. “Like. Really fucking great.”

Ryan smiles big and the dimple is back, and Jordan wants to kiss him. “Shut the fuck up,” Ryan says, almost apologetic. “You don't even know me.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Jordan says, laughing helplessly as he pushes the button for the twelfth floor. “You asked me out, anyway, you don't even know _me_.”

Ryan laughs, too. “I didn't plan on this happening tonight.”

“You were watching me all through dinner,” Jordan says. “I saw you.”

“Because you’re cute and I wanted to talk to you,” Ryan says. “You were watching me, too.”

Jordan laughs, his stomach twisting with nerves. “Duh,” Jordan says, rolling his eyes a little, “because you're cute and I wanted to talk to you. And because I've been obsessed with you for months.”

“I mean,” Ryan smiles at him. “I kinda wondered if you had posters on your walls.”

“Of you?” Jordan grins, and Ryan nods. “More like wallpaper. It's embarrassing.”

Ryan leans back against the corner of the elevator and laughs. “Cool, so we’re on the same page, sounds like.”

“Why, you've got posters of me on your walls?” Jordan asks. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Ryan says, raising an eyebrow. 

The elevator doors open.

The hall is long and empty and Ryan gestures for Jordan to go first but he doesn't say anything. Jordan steps out of the elevator and waits for Ryan, and when Ryan steps out next to him Jordan closes his eyes for a second. “So listen, I,” he starts, and when he looks over at Ryan, Ryan grabs the front of Jordan’s jacket and kisses him before he can finish his sentence.

Jordan hadn't seen him put any lip balm on but his lips are soft and he tastes a little like menthol, cool and fresh and a little intense. It's the best first kiss Jordan’s ever had. “Sorry,” Ryan exhales when he pulls back to take a breath.

Jordan shakes his head. “It's okay,” he whispers back. His hands are on Ryan’s wrists but he doesn't remember putting them there. He can feel Ryan's pulse racing under his index fingers.

“What were you going to say?” Ryan licks his lips and up close like this, Jordan can see each of his eyelashes and he honestly can't even remember his own last name, nevermind whatever he'd been about to say thirty seconds ago.

“I...have no idea,” Jordan says. He laughs a little and Ryan smiles, and Jordan is so overwhelmed that he whispers, “Oh my god, I was just coming here to watch you compete in the skills challenge.”

Ryan laughs and lets go of Jordan’s jacket and takes a step back. “Sorry, um.” He smooths his hands over the wrinkles in the front of Jordan’s jacket and Jordan feels like he has to be dreaming. “My room’s at the end of the hall,” Ryan says softly.

Jordan nods dumbly and says, “Okay.”

-+-

Jordan knocks twice on Ryan’s hotel room door in Montreal at ten minutes to eleven. He chews at his bottom lip and it takes a minute before the door opens, and Ryan squints out into the hallway before focusing on Jordan. “Oh,” Ryan says, and then, “Oh, _hi_.”

Jordan smiles even though he’s exhausted. “Hi,” he says. “What're you doing, were you sleeping?”

Ryan yawns and shakes his head. “No.”

Behind him, Jordan can see that all the lights in the room are off. The television is on a blue screen and Ryan’s hair is messed up in the back, and he’s wearing an old t-shirt and basketball shorts. The bedsheets are pulled back and rumpled.

Jordan scrunches up his nose. “It’s unbelievable that you’re lying to my face right now,” he says, and Ryan grabs his wrist and pulls him inside.

“I told you to text me when you got here,” Ryan says as he flips the lock on the door and pulls Jordan into a hug.

Jordan hugs back and closes his eyes. “I know, but it would’ve taken time, and I wouldn’t have gotten to see you like this.” He leans back and smiles at Ryan, and he reaches up and combs his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “You're the most beautiful person in the world.”

“Change out of your stupid clothes,” Ryan says, blushing. “Do you want some pajamas?”

Jordan has his own pajamas but he takes Ryan’s anyway, because they’re soft and worn-out and familiar. He changes in the bathroom but leaves the door open, and Ryan sits on the bed and watches him, his face glowing blue from the television.

He _is_ beautiful, Jordan thinks. Completely out of Jordan’s league, for sure.

“You’re acting like a voyeur right now,” Jordan says as he pulls Ryan’s sweatshirt on, and Ryan laughs around another yawn. Jordan turns the bathroom light out and walks over to where Ryan is sitting on the bed, and he climbs up into Ryan’s lap with a knee on each side of Ryan’s thighs. “Hi,” he says softly. 

Ryan laces his hands together at the small of Jordan’s back as Jordan puts his hands on the sides of Ryan’s neck and kisses him.

“Mmm, hi,” Ryan whispers against Jordan’s mouth.

Jordan leans back and rubs his thumbs across Ryan’s cheekbones. Ryan doesn't open his eyes and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Sorry if I woke you up,” Jordan whispers.

Ryan shakes his head and opens his eyes, and when he smiles it feels like a sunrise. “Kinda felt like a dream for a minute,” he whispers, and Jordan smiles back. “Really glad it’s not.”

-+-

They sit together in the back of the plane on the way back to Edmonton. Jordan plugs in a headphone splitter to his iPad and turns on Cake Boss. “Why do you like this stupid show so much, it's not even real cake,” Ryan says softly, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“Someday this show will teach me how to build a fire breathing dragon out of cake for your birthday,” Jordan says. “Then who's gonna be complaining?” 

Ryan falls asleep halfway through the third episode with his hand on Jordan’s thigh under the blanket they’re sharing.

Jordan falls asleep too, at some point, and when he wakes up the plane is starting its descent and his iPad battery is dead. Ryan’s head is on his shoulder and Jordan feels the sudden and overwhelming panic of loneliness in his chest. It scares him, how familiar this feels already, and he's already dreading the moment he’ll have to go back to Bakersfield. He looks at Ryan and Ryan sighs in his sleep, and Jordan closes his eyes again until the plane touches down.

Ryan wakes up as they’re taxiing and Jordan looks over at him. “Oh, sorry,” Ryan says as he pulls his earbuds out.

Jordan shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says.

“You’re staying with me while you’re here, right?” It’s an easy question, simple, and Jordan nods. “Good,” Ryan says as he wraps up his earbuds. “Good.”

Ryan drives them back to his house, because Jordan doesn't have a car of his own in Edmonton. By the time Ryan parks, Jordan isn't sure he can make it up the stairs, and Ryan takes all of the bags out of the trunk and manages to carry them all up to the door in one trip. “Let me take something, come on,” Jordan says, but Ryan just unlocks the door and pushes it open with his foot, stepping back so Jordan can go inside.

Jordan takes the bags when Ryan walks in, dropping them next to the wall while Ryan takes his shoes off in the entryway. Jordan takes his shoes off, too, and pushes them up against the wall. “Let’s just leave the bags,” Ryan says softly, and he hooks an arm around Jordan’s waist and pulls him close, sighing into his neck. “They'll still be there in the morning.”

Jordan hugs him back around the neck, tighter than normal, and Ryan sighs again. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” Ryan whispers. His lips brush Jordan’s neck in a spot that’s sensitive, and Jordan closes his eyes and cups the back of Ryan’s head.

“Time is a fickle beast,” Jordan whispers back. “Why, do I look older to you?”

Ryan leans back and studies Jordan’s face, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Wiser, maybe. Like you've _seen_ things in Bakersfield.”

“Is it the beard?” Jordan asks, rubbing the backs of his fingers under his chin. “It's probably the beard, right?”

“Definitely the beard,” Ryan says quietly. The corners of his mouth are always turned up like he’s trying not to smile. Jordan thinks it’s charming. “I like it, are you keeping it or you just didn’t have time to shave?”

Jordan scowls at him. “Jealousy isn't a good look on you, babyface,” he says, and he pats Ryan’s cheek and Ryan laughs.

“I like it,” Ryan says again, but it’s softer and more genuine and it gives Jordan chills. “Gives you a serious dad vibe.”

“Ooh, really?” Jordan grins at him. “I like that a _lot_.”

Ryan smiles for real, and he pulls Jordan close and kisses him, soft and dry on the mouth. “C’mon,” he says softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

“To sleep?” Jordan asks. He doesn't start down the hallway to the bedroom and Ryan doesn't either. 

“Mmhmm,” Ryan says. “Or other stuff. Y’know.”

“Ohhh, other stuff, uh-huh,” Jordan grins. “Thought you were tired.”

“Not that tired,” Ryan grins at him and steps back, tugging at Jordan’s wrist. “Come on.”

Jordan follows Ryan to his bedroom without saying anything, helpless and crazy in love.

Ryan turns on the lamp next to his bed while Jordan goes into the bathroom to change out of his suit, but he only gets as far as undoing his belt buckle before Ryan walks in and stands behind him, hugging him around the shoulders. Jordan looks up at Ryan in the mirror without lifting his head. “Don't bother changing, just come to bed,” Ryan says, raising an eyebrow at Jordan in the mirror.

“If you want me to come to bed you've got to let me take these off, at least,” Jordan says softly, his hands still on his belt buckle.

“Hmm,” Ryan hums, kissing the skin behind Jordan’s ear. “Yeah, okay.”

Jordan grins. “Didn't think that one through, did you?” he says.

“Shut up,” Ryan mutters, laughing softly. “I'm tired, give me a break.”

“Yeah, _you're_ tired,” Jordan says as he pulls his belt out of his beltloops. “Give _me_ a break.”

Ryan reaches down and fumbles blindly with Jordan’s zipper. “Take these off, please,” he whispers into Jordan’s ear, and Jordan shivers and laughs.

Ryan keeps messing with Jordan’s zipper and his hands keep slipping up under the hem of Jordan’s shirt and brushing against his stomach. “Oh my god, would you cut it _out_?” Jordan says, laughing. “You're so fucking annoying.” He shoves Ryan’s hands away, laughing, and unzips his zipper.

Ryan steps back enough for Jordan to step out of his pants, and he turns around and faces Ryan. “Okay, is this better?”

Ryan smiles and nods. “Much better, yes,” he says. 

“You're so demanding,” Jordan says, still laughing as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off. Ryan isn't wearing a shirt at all and Jordan looks at him for a long time before he puts his hands on Ryan’s biceps. He focuses on the warmth of Ryan’s skin under his fingertips, the flex of muscle under his palms. Jordan is overwhelmed with want, with a sudden and inescapable need to be _closer_ , and he feels like he's drowning.

Jordan looks up and meets Ryan’s eyes. Ryan smiles at him, soft and sweet, and Jordan smiles back, helpless.

When Jordan goes to pull his undershirt off, Ryan catches him by the wrist. “Leave the shirt,” he said.

Jordan rolls his eyes, but he doesn't pull his arm away. “You're a freak,” he says, but he means it fondly.

“I just like taking your shirt off,” Ryan says, grinning. “Builds the tension.”

Jordan laughs again, but he feels heat blooming in his stomach. “Uh, yeah, I know. Like I said. You're a _freak_.”

Ryan follows him out of the bathroom and just outside the doorway, Jordan turns and grabs his face with both hands and kisses him. Ryan makes a noise and hooks an arm around Jordan’s waist and kisses back, his other hand curled around the back of Jordan’s neck. “Sorry,” Jordan whispers, breathless.

“Don't ever apologize for that,” Ryan whispers back, and he kisses him again before walking him, backwards, to the bed.

Jordan trips over his own feet and feels Ryan’s arm tighten around his waist, and he laughs against Ryan's mouth. “You're like, my knight in shining armor,” he whispers.

“Oh my god, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Ryan whispers back as the backs of Jordan’s knees make contact with the edge of the bed. Jordan is laughing as he sits down, leaning back on his hands and watching Ryan.

Jordan’s never liked the phrase “making love,” but it feels exactly like that once they finally get to bed - slow, careful, intentional. Ryan has one arm around Jordan’s chest and his other hand on Jordan’s hip, fingers pressing hard enough into the skin that Jordan hopes it leaves a bruise. Jordan can’t keep his eyes open, biting hard on his bottom lip and pushing his hips back every time Ryan pushes in deeper, harder, slower.

“Fuck,” Jordan whispers with a sharp inhale of breath. Ryan squeezes Jordan’s shoulder, and he’s breathless when he presses a kiss to the back of Jordan's neck. He pushes in slower and slower until Jordan has to turn his face into the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Do you need me to stop?” Ryan whispers in his ear, and Jordan shakes his head into the pillow. Ryan starts to pull out but Jordan reaches back and grabs blindly at him, his hand making contact with the back of Ryan’s thigh, and Ryan goes still.

“Just give me one second,” Jordan whispers in a rush. “I just--I just need one more second.”

“Okay,” Ryan whispers back, and Jordan focuses all his attention on breathing in and out.

Jordan bites his lips and squeezes the back of Ryan’s thigh as Ryan gently scrapes his teeth across the skin at the back of Jordan’s neck. “Babe,” Ryan whispers, and his voice is strained. “I can’t keep--”

“Okay, okay.” Jordan lifts his face away from the pillow, and the air in the room feels cold when he breathes in. Every movement sends electric shocks through his entire body, and Ryan laughs, his breath warm against Jordan’s neck. Jordan still doesn't move his hand off Ryan’s thigh, so Ryan still doesn't move.

Ryan hooks his chin on Jordan’s shoulder, arm tightening around his chest. “You’re fucking _killing_ me,” Ryan whispers in Jordan’s ear.

Jordan curls his free hand into a fist full of bedsheets, and he grins and whispers back, “I know.”

-+-

On June 28, just after dinner, Ryan's phone rings.

Later, he'll remember the details a little more clearly, like the color of the sky as the sun is going down and the way the grill is still warm on the back deck, how his phone rings at the same time a flock of birds takes flight from the yard out back like they know what’s coming.

But in the moment, the ringtone is Jordan’s, so Ryan doesn't think about anything else.

“Hey,” Ryan says, and he sits down at the table on the back deck. “I was just gonna text you, see if you missed me enough to come back early.”

Jordan laughs, and Ryan can't help but smile. “Few more days. I told you, you should've come with me. My folks were disappointed, I think they would've rather seen you instead of me.”

“Don't they always?” Ryan smiles.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jordan says, still laughing for a second, but then he sighs and Ryan feels the mood shift. “So, um.”

Ryan’s smile fades as he looks out at the horizon. “You heard from your agent.” Jordan is quiet for long enough where Ryan isn't sure he's still there, and Ryan pulls his phone away for a second to look at the screen. “Are you there?”

“I did,” Jordan says, “and I need to tell you something.”

Now Ryan is quiet for a long time.

Jordan exhales softly, and Ryan closes his eyes. “Ry,” Jordan says quietly.

They've talked about this endlessly, but Ryan isn't sure he's prepared for this conversation. “Can I guess which one?”

“Chicago,” Jordan says. “It’s Chicago. I have to go in and sign it on Saturday morning. Make it official.”

It's always been Chicago. They've talked about this _endlessly_ , and Ryan is _definitely_ not prepared.

“Chicago,” Ryan says softly. “You didn't let me guess.”

“Ryan.” Jordan sounds nervous, and Ryan shakes his head.

“This is what you wanted, this is _awesome_ ,” Ryan says, and some part of him really means it but he can't figure out which part.

Jordan is quiet for a long time. “I feel like I'm two different people right now,” he finally says. “Like, _I’m_ excited, you know? But.” 

“You should be excited,” Ryan says. “This is what you wanted.”

“I know,” Jordan says, “but what about us?”

“We talked about this,” Ryan says quietly. “This isn't about us.”

“I know.” Jordan sighs. “I don't...I don't know.”

“Chicago isn't that far away,” Ryan says. He isn't sure that part’s true. It feels like Chicago is an entire _lifetime_ away. “I'll come visit you, we can make this work.”

“I didn't want you to find out with everybody else,” Jordan says softly. “I should've stayed home with you until after I knew for sure.”

 _Home_. Ryan's chest hurts.

-+-

The benefit, Jordan thinks, is that they have the rest of the summer together before he has to leave for Chicago.

He starts going to Ryan’s gym with him in the mornings so they can spend more time together. He keeps going to his own gym too, so he doesn't really spend the time working out with Ryan so much as he spends it telling Ryan how great he is. 

Jordan’s not sure, really, if Ryan likes it or hates it.

“Look at those _pecs_ ,” Jordan says while Ryan is lifts weights, and he whistles to really get his point across. “God _damn_.”

Ryan laughs like it hurts to laugh. “Would you cut it out??” He puts the weights down carefully but he doesn't sit up, just lays there and breathes quickly, _in-out-in-out-in-out_. He closes his eyes, and Jordan holds his breath. “You're the fucking worst spotter.”

“No way, I am not,” Jordan says. “I'm building you up. What other spotter have you ever had who compliments you like that?”

Ryan laughs again, but this time it doesn't sound quite so strained. “None,” he admits. “You're right.”

 _You'll miss this when I'm in Chicago every day_ , Jordan thinks helplessly.

Ryan opens his eyes. “Okay,” he says softly. “Sorry. Just needed to catch my breath.”

-+-

_i have to find a new road roommate ☹️_

Jordan's started sending these texts, randomly, while Ryan's on his way home or while Jordan’s out with his friends or today, when Ryan’s at the rink with Connor.

It's driving Ryan crazy.

 _i bet youll find somebody quick_ , Ryan writes back, and he sighs and shoves his phone into his bag. “Never fall in love with a teammate,” he announces to Connor. “It's always a bad idea.”

Connor laughs a little. “Good advice, bud, but you're a few years too late.” Connor’s been with Dylan for like, a thousand years. Ryan’s not sure that they weren't destined to end up together before they were even born.

“He keeps sending me these texts, like, hey, here's a reminder of all these little things you don't think about that are gonna change in a couple months.” Ryan sighs. “I know it's shitty to be…whatever. I don't know.”

Connor frowns as he wraps tape around the blade of his stick. “I mean, it sucks.” He glances up at Ryan. “You know? It's okay to say that it fucking sucks.”

“I feel like an asshole, though,” Ryan says. “It's his career, he wants this.”

“ _You_ didn't let him get a better offer from Chicago, though,” Connor says with a shrug. “That's not on you, it’s okay to be pissed at the situation.”

Ryan squints at him. “You're not supposed to be smarter than me.”

“I've always been smarter than you,” Connor says, and he smiles brightly.

Ryan flips him off.

Connor’s quiet for a while as he turns his focus back to taping his stick. “When we got drafted, it was like I was being ripped in half,” he says carefully. “Like, we both got there, and I was _so_ happy for him, but like…I mean, Edmonton’s a million miles from Phoenix.”

“But you make it work,” Ryan says.

Connor nods. “We make it work,” he repeats softly. He's quiet for a minute, and then he says, “And like, it could be worse. He could be further away. And once the season starts, it gets easier. You're working too much to really think about it. Your schedules overlap, and sometimes you play each other, and then every few weeks you both get the same day off. So you fly out for a couple days. Or you fly out for twelve, eighteen hours. Whatever you have to do.” He looks up at Ryan. “If it's worth it, you just do what you have to do.”

“Aren't you exhausted?” Ryan is exhausted just thinking about it.

Connor presses his lips together. “Yeah,” he says after a minute. “Yes. All the time. A red eye in the middle of January really fucking sucks. But like, Skype really fucking sucks. And sometimes I just want to hear his stupid jokes in person, you know?”

Ryan smiles a little. “So you're saying the red eye flights for a five minute visit are worth it.”

“Yeah,” Connor nods. “And like, I'm not the only one doing the traveling. I think he keeps track on a spreadsheet or something so he doesn't have to fly more than I do, but we keep it pretty even.” He sets his tape down on the bench and looks up at Ryan. “It's a hassle, but it's so fucking worth it that it doesn't really matter.”

-+-

Ryan has to leave for training camp before Jordan does, and Jordan sits on the edge of Ryan’s bed while he finishes packing. Ryan's flight leaves at six in the morning, and then Jordan has a whole day in Ryan’s house by himself before he leaves for Chicago the next day.

He wasn't counting on ending the summer like this, and his chest aches every time he thinks about it. 

“Don't you think we’re being scammed out of a day together?” Jordan asks.

Ryan laughs. His hair is falling over his forehead as he packs a bunch of pairs of socks, and Jordan wants to push him against the closet door and kiss him until they lose track of time. “I mean,” Ryan glances up at him and runs a hand through his hair. “I don't know if it's a _scam_.”

“It's a scam,” Jordan nods. “Trust me.”

Ryan zips up his suitcase and stands up, looking around the room with a sigh.

Jordan watches him and bites hard at the inside of his cheek.

Ryan looks over and points at him. “ _Don't_ cry,” he says. It's a warning.

Jordan shakes his head. “I'm not!” he says. His voice breaks, because it’s a lie.

“We can do this,” Ryan says.

“I know,” Jordan says. It doesn't make him feel any better, and he looks down at his hands.

Ryan walks over and kneels down in front of him. “Listen,” he says quietly. Jordan counts to three in his head and looks up to meet Ryan’s eyes, and now Ryan's eyes are bright.

“ _You_ said not to cry,” Jordan whispers, jabbing his finger into Ryan's chest. “That means you, too.”

“I _know_ ,” Ryan whispers back, catching Jordan by the wrist.

Jordan grabs Ryan around the neck with his free arm and hugs him tight, knocking Ryan a little off-balance and folding their arms uncomfortably against his chest. “I wasn't thinking about this part when I signed,” he whispers. “I'll be fine, we’ll be fine, I just wish we could pause time for like, one more day.”

Ryan exhales against Jordan’s neck and Jordan closes his eyes. “Can we just fast forward through this part instead?” Ryan whispers, and his voice is uneasy.

“Yeah, okay, I like that idea better,” Jordan whispers, and he cups the back of Ryan’s head.

“Don't cry, I mean it,” Ryan says.

“I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything,” Jordan whispers back, and he doesn't let go.

-+-

The next morning, the airport is too bright.

Jordan parks in short term parking and carries both of Ryan's bags for him. “You really don't have to do that,” Ryan says, reaching for his duffel, but Jordan swats his hand away. “Let me carry it, come on.”

“Cut it _out_ ,” Jordan says. He's wearing Ryan's sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and he takes a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and puts those on, too.

“Take those _off_ ,” Ryan says, laughing. “It's four in the fucking morning!”

“Mind your own business,” Jordan says, but he takes the sunglasses off and hooks them on the neck of his sweatshirt. “Don't wear sunglasses, let me carry my own bags. Who the fuck’s going to do this for you when I'm gone, nobody will ever be this nice to you with that attitude.”

“Davo probably would, if I asked,” Ryan says.

“Ugh, no, he won't. I told him not to.” Jordan grins at Ryan.

Ryan laughs. “You're an asshole.”

Jordan hangs back with Ryan's carry on while he checks his bags in for the flight, and they're walking towards security when Ryan grabs Jordan by the elbow and drags him into the bathroom. It's empty and their footsteps echo off the tile walls, and Jordan follows him into a stall at the end of the room and fumbles with the lock until Ryan hears it click into place.

“I know this is kinda gross,” Ryan says.

“I love you,” Jordan says quickly. He drops Ryan’s carry-on and pushes him against the wall next to the toilet paper dispenser. “Okay?”

“I love you, too,” Ryan says. He puts his hands on Jordan’s hips and Jordan puts his hands on Ryan's neck and kisses him. “I can't believe we're making out in a fucking airport _bathroom_ ,” Ryan whispers.

“Shh,” Jordan whispers, “get used to it, this is our life now.”

“Kinda exciting, eh?” Ryan leans back and grins at him. “Listen, we’re gonna be fine. You know?”

Jordan swallows hard and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yes.”

“We did this when you were in Bakersfield,” Ryan says, and of all things, that's what makes Jordan’s eyes well up. “Come on, don't do that,” Ryan whispers desperately, and he puts his hands on the sides of Jordan’s neck.

“That was different,” Jordan whispers, putting his hands on Ryan's wrists. “Like, I know you're not a robot, let’s just cry together in this airport bathroom and get this over with.” He laughs a little, but it sounds hollow.

Ryan kisses him again. “It's just two months,” he says. “We just need to get through the next two months.”

“Trial separation,” Jordan nods and presses his thumb to Ryan’s chin. “I know.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ryan says again. Jordan’s not sure who Ryan’s trying to convince, but he nods anyway like he believes it.

-+-

A week before the season opener, Ryan gets a giant package in the mail that he didn't order. It's addressed to him, and it's from the NHL store, and Ryan definitely didn't order anything and he can't figure out what it could possibly be.

The packing slip is two pages long, and when he pulls it out to look at it, he sees a pile of bright red fabric and he rolls his eyes. “What the fuck,” he mutters as he looks in the box, and when he sees how much Blackhawks stuff is in it, he rolls his eyes again because he knows _immediately_ who sent it. “Oh my _god_.”

“Hey, babe!” Jordan says brightly when Ryan calls him over Skype. He's still in a hotel but he's moving into an apartment with a couple of the other guys over the weekend, and Ryan has almost stopped worrying about him. “How's it going?”

“Good, I'm good,” Ryan nods. “How are you?”

“I'm great,” Jordan says. He's grinning, and Ryan knows it's because _he_ knows the package showed up.

Ryan props his phone up on the counter. “So, hey,” he says, holding up the packing slip. “Did you send me a package?”

“Hmm,” Jordan squints at him. “Maybe. Did I?”

Ryan slides the box over so Jordan can see it, and Jordan keeps squinting at the screen for a second before he starts laughing. Ryan shakes his head.

“That _is_ from me, how'd you know?” Jordan says, still laughing.

“You know, it was a wild guess?” Ryan says. He digs through the box and pulls out a t-shirt, and he holds it up so Jordan can see _OESTERLE_ and _82_ printed on the back in bright white.

“Oh my god,” Jordan says gleefully. “Look how sharp it looks! I hope it fits you.”

“You can't _possibly_ think I'm going to wear this,” Ryan says.

“Uh, yes, I do,” Jordan says, “I wear Oilers stuff here all the time!”

“That's different!” Ryan says. “You _played_ here, I can't wear this!”

“You absolutely can wear it, you could wear it to the gym, or to the store,” Jordan says, ticking each one off on his fingers. “To team dinners. Around the house. Everybody knows I’m obsessed with you anyway, just tell them I bought it for you.”

“They're _never_ going to believe you bought this for me,” Ryan says, laughing.

“That says _way_ more about you than it does about me, bud,” Jordan says.

“This box is _full_ of stuff, Jordan,” Ryan says. He pulls out three hats. _Three_. “Like, did you order the whole store?”

“I meeean…” Jordan shrugs and grins, eyebrows raised, and he holds up his hands, palms up. “Maybe?”

Ryan's shoulders fall. “Ugh, you're too cute, I hate you,” he mutters, dropping the hats back in the box.

“You do not,” Jordan says, smiling. “You don't have to wear them, really, I just thought it'd be funny. Thought it'd make you laugh.”

“Oh, _sure_ ,” Ryan nods. “You spent like, a thousand dollars on a pick-me-up.”

“Hey, it's not like I sent you a jersey or anything,” Jordan says. “Gotta save something for Christmas.”

Ryan laughs. “I love you.”

Jordan lights up when Ryan says it, and Ryan suddenly misses him even more than he did a minute earlier. “Hey, I love you, too.”

“Imagine that,” Ryan says softly.

“I ordered a couple black-on-black,” Jordan says, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. “More discreet, I think there's a hat? You could wear a black hat.”

“How about if you guys win in a few weeks, I'll wear something from this box,” Ryan says.

“Ooh, yes,” Jordan grins. “You know I love a good bet. How about if we-- _when_ we win, you wear _everything_ in that box.”

“ _One_ shirt from this box,” Ryan says.

“In public,” Jordan says. “Not under a stupid sweater or something.”

Ryan sighs. “Deal.”

“And if you win,” Jordan points at the camera, “which is a big if, by the way - I'll wear a Nugent-Hopkins shirt.”

“Do I need to buy one for you or do you already have that covered?” Ryan thinks it's more likely that Jordan has it covered.

Jordan laughs. “Uh, maybe don't waste your money,” he says, and he's blushing a little. “You want me to wear orange or white?”

-+-

Jordan gets to the airport early, and he sits on a bench in baggage claim to wait. He keeps switching his phone off and on and off and on, waiting for a message to pop up when the plane lands. “Come _on_ ,” he mutters at the picture of himself and Ryan that's on his lockscreen, and then like magic, a message pops up.

**Nuge** 😘🚀🐯💘  
_LANDED_

Jordan swipes it open and sends back, _get OUTTT i haven't seen u in SIX WEEKS u better be EXCITED????_ He watches the screen and three dots come up immediately.

Ryan sends back a selfie from the plane where he's smiling big, eyes wide and headphones in. He's wearing a backwards hat that Jordan is _pretty_ sure was in the box of Blackhawks stuff he'd sent, and Jordan sucks in a breath and presses his knuckles against his lips. _omg_ , he writes back with one hand, _literally my fave face what a babe!!! meet me @baggage claim._

Jordan ends up pacing back and forth in front of the doors at the bottom of the escalator, and his stomach is doing cartwheels. He feels like an eternity passes before he finally sees Ryan on the escalator, and his breath catches in his throat when they make eye contact.

Ryan is somehow more handsome than Jordan remembers, taller and more elegant, and Jordan feels like he needs to sit down. Ryan bites his lip and smiles at him, not breaking eye contact as he weaves through the crowd to where Jordan is standing. Jordan raises his eyebrows and grins and then Ryan drops his bag and pulls him into a hug.

“Hiiii,” Jordan says, laughing a little. “You're here.”

Ryan nods and hugs him tighter. “That was the longest flight of my life, hi.” He leans back and studies Jordan's face. “I fucking _missed_ you, holy shit.”

Jordan laughs and presses his hands to Ryan's sides, and he feels luckier than anybody else in the world. “Forgot how hot I am, right?” he says, rolling his eyes, and Ryan pulls him into another hug. Jordan turns his face against Ryan's neck and kisses him softly behind the ear. “I missed you, too.”

-+-

The only time Ryan's ever really interacted with Vinnie is when they were throwing punches on the ice back in February, so Ryan isn't really sure what to expect when they get to the apartment. “He knows it's me, right?” he asks Jordan when he parks the car.

Jordan sighs. “Yes, he knows it's you, relax,” he says. “He's really sweet off the ice, I promise.”

Vinnie opens the door while Jordan is carrying Ryan’s bags up the stairs, and he grins at them and whistles. “Holy shit, who showed you how to be a fucking gentleman?”

“You, obviously,” Jordan says, laughing.

Vinnie takes the bags from him and Jordan glances at Ryan. “You remember Vinnie,” he says pointedly, putting a hand on Ryan’s back.

Ryan laughs a little and nods. “Uh, yeah,” he says, and he looks at Vinnie and smiles.

Vinnie holds up his hands. “I promised I'd be on my best behavior,” he says, and Ryan laughs before he can help it. Vinnie smiles back, a real smile, and he says, “So, listen, I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot, but I didn't know you guys were tight until this dipshit showed up here, so I guess we should call a truce?”

“It's cool,” Ryan says, grinning. “Already forgiven. Part of the game, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” Vinnie grins back at him. “I hope you know he's like, obsessed with you.” He looks Ryan up and down and shrugs. “Makes sense, though. I get it.”

“Oh my god,” Jordan rolls his eyes, and when Ryan looks at him, he's blushing. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you.” He shoves Vinnie in the shoulder as he walks inside and Vinnie just laughs and steps aside for Ryan to come in, too.

Any nerves Ryan had are gone the more time he spends with Vinnie - he's talkative, funny, expressive. He makes them all dinner and talks with his hands the whole time, and he tells stories that make Jordan laugh until he's crying.

Ryan loves him.

After dinner, Ryan tries to do the dishes but Vinnie shoves him away from the sink. “You're a _guest_ , this isn't your job.” He points at Jordan. “Do you see what people do, when somebody cooks them dinner? You could learn a _lot_ from this guy.”

Jordan hugs Vinnie around the waist from behind. “Isn't he the best?” he says to no one in particular, and Ryan's not sure who he's talking about.

Vinnie groans. “Get the fuck out of here,” he mutters, but he's grinning while he fills up the sink.

Jordan drags Ryan down the hall to his bedroom and closes the door, and he turns to Ryan and grins. “Alone at last,” he says, and he backs Ryan up against the door and kisses him.

Ryan laughs against Jordan’s mouth. “The doorknob is _right_ in my back, can we move this--”

Jordan leans back, affronted. “Oh my god, would you put your discomfort aside for _one_ second.”

“Oh, I'm _so_ sorry,” Ryan says, shifting a little and wincing.

Jordan rolls his eyes and steps back, grinning. “You're such a drama queen.”

Ryan laughs and steps away from the door, looking around the room. Jordan doesn't have a ton of stuff, but he has a bookshelf that's filled with his books and a couple of framed pictures on his nightstand, one of his family and one of him and Ryan together from last summer. “Hey, this is really nice,” Ryan says. There are a couple of boxes still sitting unpacked next to the closet, but there are hooks on the wall and a shoe organizer is hanging in the closet. 

The thing is, Jordan never really put down roots in Edmonton. Ryan had visited him a few times in Bakersfield and Jordan’s bedroom had been even more sparse there than it is here - just a bed and a dresser, nothing on the walls. He'd explained it away by saying he didn't want to unpack everything just to repack it again, going back and forth between Bakersfield and Edmonton; it was just easier that way. Ryan understood, sort of, but it still broke his heart a little more every time.

Jordan had been called up in February and he'd stayed with Ryan, and that first night, he'd left his bags next to the closet in Ryan's bedroom, zipped up.

“I've got room if you want to unpack a little,” Ryan had said. “You want one of the drawers, at least? Hang your suit in the closet?”

“No, it's okay,” Jordan had said. “I don't want to take up space in your dresser, and like, I don't know how long I'll be here.” 

Jordan had been sent back down two weeks later, but Ryan still keeps an empty drawer in his dresser at home. When Jordan came to Chicago, there'd been a few t-shirts in it, a couple pairs of socks. He'd made some progress.

But now Jordan has a bookshelf with books on it, and a desk for his laptop, and there's a little potted houseplant on his bedside table, and this really looks like he's making progress. “Is that my sweatshirt?” Ryan asks, narrowing his eyes at the sweatshirts hanging on the back of Jordan’s door.

“Shut up, I told you I had that,” Jordan says, and his voice is soft. “I know it's kinda empty.” When Ryan looks over, Jordan is watching him, and then Jordan scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, I--I know you weren't--sorry.”

“It looks really great,” Ryan says gently. “I mean it.”

Jordan rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. “I don't--I don't want to have another conversation about this,” he says softly. It never really goes anywhere, when they do talk about it. Ryan won't ever really understand what it felt like to Jordan, not knowing where he’d be from one day to the next, and Jordan won't ever be able to explain it to him so he does understand, and it's honestly okay. “Sorry, I know that sounds...sorry.”

Ryan shrugs and shakes his head. “Stop apologizing for this,” he says, and he means it. “We’re good.”

“I'm just, I'm in an adjustment period right now,” Jordan says. “I'm making progress.”

“Babe, I know you are,” Ryan says. “It looks great.”

Jordan nods with his lips pressed together. “Thanks,” he says, but his cheeks are pink and Ryan knows he feels bad.

“Listen, if those boxes are still packed because they’re full of like, pictures of me,” Ryan says to lighten the mood, and Jordan rolls his eyes but the tension disappears from his face. “I mean, I get it, that's _super_ embarrassing. I'd keep them packed, too.”

“First of all, they're full of life-size cardboard cutouts of you,” Jordan says without missing a beat, and Ryan laughs. “I _hate_ how you always underestimate my obsession with you. And yeah, it _is_ embarrassing.” He watches Ryan and smiles. “Thanks for not being an asshole about it.”

“It's just a couple boxes,” Ryan says, shaking his head. “Not the end of the world.” He gestures to the bookshelf. “I didn't know you had this many books.” He walks over and there are more pictures on top of the bookshelf, out of frames, and he picks one up. It's from last Christmas in Michigan, when Ryan had been sitting on the couch at Jordan’s family Christmas party. Jordan had come up behind the couch and hugged him around the neck and yelled, “Who has a camera, take a picture!” Jordan is always more relaxed around his family, more outgoing and easier to laugh, and Ryan loves spending time with them.

Somebody had taken the picture with a real camera, probably Jordan’s mom or his aunt or maybe one of his cousins. It didn't really matter who. In the picture, Ryan has his hand on Jordan’s wrist and Jordan’s chin is on top of Ryan’s head, and they're both looking at somebody out of frame and laughing. It feels like it was yesterday.

“Why isn't this one in a frame?” Ryan looks over and holds up the picture.

“I _know_ ,” Jordan says. He walks over and stands next to Ryan. “I need to go to like, IKEA or something.”

“I fucking love this picture,” Ryan says, looking at it again.

Jordan presses his hand to Ryan's back. “I'll make you a copy,” he says. “It’s the best one for sure.”

-+-

Ryan leaves early the next morning for practice, while Jordan is still in bed. “Hey, give me a kiss before you leave,” Jordan says while Ryan sits on the edge of the bed and puts his sneakers on. Jordan scratches lightly at the small of Ryan's back. “C’mon, hey. Hey.”

Ryan laughs softly. “Would you just wait a second?” He sits back up and turns to Jordan, and Jordan pulls his blanket up to his chin, squinting at Ryan through one eye. “You are _so_ lucky you're cute,” Ryan says, and he cups Jordan's cheek and kisses him softly.

Jordan puts his hand on the back of Ryan's neck and kisses back, and Ryan sighs. “Good luck tonight,” Jordan says. “Can't wait to be your arch nemesis in a few hours.”

“Watch your back,” Ryan says as he stands up and pulls his sweatshirt on.

Jordan laughs. “Oh yeah, I'll keep an eye out. I'm sure _you're_ the one I need to worry about.”

That night, nine seconds into the second period, the ref blows the whistle.

Jordan looks around the ice when he hears it, and when the ref sends number ninety-three to the box for tripping, Jordan sucks in a breath and whispers, “Oh my _god_.”

Watching Ryan skate over to the box might be the most delightful thing Jordan has ever seen in his life.

They go straight into a TV timeout and Jordan skates a couple of slow circles out in the middle of the defensive zone before he just can't help himself. He skates past the box, tapping the blade of his stick on the glass as he goes by. He looks over his shoulder and grins when he sees Ryan looking down at his feet, shaking his head and smiling.

The Oilers win in overtime, but Jordan’s had to deal with more painful losses.

After the game, Jordan showers as quickly as he can and heads to the visitor’s dressing room with his bag. He leans against the wall across the hall from the door, and he texts Ryan. _is it ok if i come say goodbye or will u trip me if i do? just wondering_

Ryan replies with a single middle finger emoji, and then the door opens and he sticks his head out. Jordan looks over. “Oh, yikes,” he says. “It's the Oilers tough guy, you scared the shit out of me.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and steps out in the hallway. “Listen,” he says.

Jordan holds up both hands. “I'll do whatever you want,” he whispers, and he can't stop grinning. “Please don't knock me down.”

Ryan laughs and walks over and leans against the wall next to him. “I'm just joking,” Jordan says softly, nudging Ryan with his elbow. “Okay game, I guess.”

“I tried to get them to let you win, but nobody was interested.” Ryan shrugs. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jordan is quiet for a minute, and he looks over at Ryan. “When's your flight?”

“Eleven, I think?” Ryan shakes his head. “Not sure, but we're leaving soon.”

Jordan nods. “Maybe you should just...miss the bus,” he says, and he's joking but he's also a little serious. “You know? No big deal.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, I think.” Ryan watches him, and Jordan blushes and smiles down at his feet. “I'll see you in sixty-five days.”

“Who's counting though, right?” Jordan looks at Ryan. “You're counting?”

“Uh, yeah.” Ryan says it like _yes, obviously, of course_. “Aren't you?”

Jordan has the days numbered on a calendar in his bedroom. “No, absolutely not,” he says.

Ryan laughs. “You're a fucking liar.”

“Hey, be _nice_ ,” Jordan jabs his elbow into Ryan’s ribs. “I'm not going to see you for sixty-five days.” He looks over at Ryan. “Technically sixty-four, today's almost over. Obviously I'm counting the days, too.”

“Good,” Ryan says softly.

Jordan is quiet for a minute. “It's kinda cool,” he finally says. 

Ryan looks over at him. “What's that?”

“Like, this.” Jordan gestures at nothing in particular. “We’re doing this, you know? We’re making it work.”

Ryan breaks into a smile so bright that Jordan feels like he's looking straight into the sun, and he has to look away. “Yeah,” Ryan says, and he reaches over and squeezes Jordan’s elbow. “We really are.”

-+-

This time, Jordan is at home with Ryan when he gets the call. Ryan is out on the back deck with the sliding door open behind him, and Jordan is pacing back and forth in the living room. It's summer again, and Jordan’s been home for a month.

Jordan sounds nervous. Ryan is trying not to eavesdrop. 

“Okay, yeah. Thank you,” Jordan says as he steps into the doorway. “I will. Thanks, I’ll see you then.” He hangs up, and Ryan holds his breath.

Jordan doesn't say anything.

“Who was that?” Ryan looks over his shoulder, and Jordan is leaning against the doorframe, frowning at his phone.

“Um, so, that was my agent,” Jordan says.

Ryan sits up a little and turns towards him, watching him carefully. “Yeah?”

Jordan is still frowning at his phone. “They're trading me to Arizona,” he says, and he looks up at Ryan. “I’m getting traded.”

It doesn't register right away, and Ryan shakes his head. “Sorry, what? Are you kidding?”

Jordan shakes his head. “I mean,” he laughs a little. “What the _fuck_.”

“You don't like to stay in one place for very long, do you?” Ryan smiles at him, careful, and then Jordan laughs for real. 

“Right?” Jordan shakes his head again. “I mean, I guess I wanted a change of scenery?”

“Arizona’s nice and hot,” Ryan says, and he sighs. “You're gonna be so much tanner than me.”

“Oh, babe, don't be jealous.” Jordan walks over and sits on the edge of the seat next to Ryan. “I like to be tan, it feels good,” he says, in the weirdest fucking voice Ryan has ever heard. 

Ryan makes a face at him. “What the _fuck_ was that?” he asks, laughing a little.

Jordan sits back in his seat and laughs, pressing a hand over his eyes. He drops his hand and looks over at Ryan, and the way he's smiling makes Ryan's heart skip a beat. “Tan Mom!” he says like it makes any sense at all. “You know Tan Mom.”

Ryan smiles back helplessly and shakes his head. “I have no fucking idea what you're talking about,” he says.

“That's probably because I'm too hip for you,” Jordan says. “I'll send you a link later, you know what YouTube is?”

Ryan laughs. “Shut the fuck up, I hate you.” He stretches out his legs and crosses his feet at the ankles. “So what does this mean, do I have to replace all my Chicago merch now?”

“Nah, I'll take care of it, don't worry.” Jordan says. He's looking at his phone, typing quickly.

“Are you already ordering it?” Ryan squints at him.

Jordan laughs. “ _No_ , I'm texting Vinnie.” He holds up his phone to Ryan. “He's going, too. Don't _tell_ anybody yet. I don't think I'm supposed to even tell you.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Who do you think I'm going to tell?”

Jordan laughs again. “Ohhh, I don't know. Me, I guess. Your mom.”

“Hey, don't make me sound _too_ popular,” Ryan laughs.

Jordan drops his phone on the seat and hooks an arm around Ryan's neck and pulls him close, kissing his temple and then holding him there. Ryan settles against Jordan’s side and puts a hand on his thigh. “It'll be fine,” Jordan says, his lips brushing against Ryan's temple, and Ryan shivers even though it's hot outside. “You know? Same old thing at this point.”

“Same old thing,” Ryan echoes. “You're much better adjusted this time around.”

“It's the same old thing, that's why,” Jordan says softly. “Didn't you hear me?” He kisses Ryan's temple again. “We’ll be in the same timezone again!”

“Silver lining.” Ryan looks up at him and smiles.

“And it'll be super warm, no more snow,” Jordan says. “You'll probably visit way more.”

“The _real_ silver lining.” Ryan shifts a little and Jordan sighs and rests his temple against Ryan’s. The sun is setting and the sky is pink and orange, and Ryan closes his eyes.

“Visiting me more often, you mean,” Jordan says.

“Well, I meant the warm weather, but sure,” Ryan smiles, “visiting you will be nice, too, I guess.”

Jordan presses his nose against Ryan’s temple and laughs. “I hate you,” he whispers.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ryan whispers back. “I love you, too.”

-+-

After they lose in Montreal before break, Jordan gets a late flight back to Edmonton. He gets a couple hours of restless sleep but by the time they land, the airport is deserted and he feels like it takes forever for his bags to show up at baggage claim.

It's fucking freezing, and he doesn't have a heavy enough jacket with him.

Jordan scrolls back through his texts with Ryan as he waits for his Uber to pull up. He thinks about texting Ryan now but it's almost three in the morning, and he's almost sure Ryan's been in bed for hours at this point. Jordan rubs his eyes as the Uber pulls up to the curb, and he makes smalltalk with the driver even though he feels like he could pass out in this car and not even care a little bit.

The house is dark when the car drops him off, except for the porch light out front. Jordan smiles as he unlocks the door, and he pauses inside to see if he needs to turn off the alarm, too, but everything is quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan.

Jordan sets the alarm when he locks the door, and he turns the hall light on for long enough to toe his sneakers off and drop his bags at the door to the laundry room. He feels like he should probably change into pajamas but he's already wearing sweats, so he bypasses the bathroom and goes to Ryan's bedroom instead. 

Ryan left the lamp on but he's curled up in bed, sleeping, and Jordan stands at the door and watches him for a long time before he walks over and turns the light off. Ryan stirs a little and sighs as he rolls over with his back to Jordan, and Jordan pulls the covers back and gets in bed behind him. He puts an arm around Ryan’s waist and pulls him closer, kissing his neck, and Ryan inhales when Jordan nips at his ear and whispers, "Hey."

Ryan doesn't open his eyes but Jordan sees him smile in the moonlight, and Jordan hooks his chin on Ryan’s shoulder. "Heeey," Ryan whispers, slow with sleep, and he puts his hand over Jordan's. "I'm not dreaming, right?"

"You always think I'm a dream," Jordan whispers back, and he kisses the back of Ryan's neck and pinches his side. It's gentle but Ryan laughs anyway and opens his eyes. "I mean, _I'm_ obviously a dream but _this_ isn't a dream, hi."

Ryan turns onto his other side to face Jordan and he smiles, and Jordan presses his thumb to the dimple in Ryan's cheek. "Hi," Ryan whispers. “You're finally home.”

"I’m so fucking glad you didn't get picked for the All-Star Game,” Jordan whispers.

Ryan laughs and pulls him into a hug. "Oh my god, I missed you," he whispers against Jordan's neck, and he takes a deep breath as Jordan hugs him back. "I tried to stay up, I watched your game.”

“Ah,” Jordan says. “Not our best work.”

“Not your worst, either,” Ryan says.

“I didn't fall down while I had the puck _once_ tonight,” Jordan says.

Ryan laughs. “Small victories, right?”

Jordan laughs, too. “Right.”

“You smell good for somebody who just spent five hours on a plane,” Ryan says, yawning.

"Shut up," Jordan hugs him tighter and closes his eyes. "I took a shower at the arena just for you, pretty much had to run through security at the airport."

“My hero,” Ryan says. “I can't believe we have a whole _week_ together.”

“I know, right?” Jordan sighs. “We should've at least planned to go somewhere warm.”

“You wanna go somewhere warm?” Ryan slides his hands up Jordan's back, underneath his sweatshirt. “I wouldn't be against that.”

“Nah, it's alright,” Jordan says softly. “Here’s perfect.”

-+-

The next morning, Jordan walks up behind Ryan and hugs him around the waist while he's rinsing the dishes from breakfast. “Come shower with me,” Jordan says softly, kissing the back of Ryan's neck.

“Hmm, I would, but,” Ryan says, grinning. “I mean, these dishes aren't gonna wash themselves.”

“ _Fuck_ the dishes,” Jordan says.

“Okay, you're sending me mixed signals here,” Ryan says as he turns the water off, and Jordan laughs against the back of his neck. “You want me to fuck the _dishes_?”

“I hate you,” Jordan says, still laughing as he steps back, and Ryan turns and grins at him. “Come on, it's been months.”

They showered together in Jordan’s hotel room two weeks ago, but Ryan isn't going to be the one to point that out. “Fine, fine,” he sighs. “Let's get this over with.”

Jordan grabs his hand and pulls him down the hallway, and Ryan bites back a smile as he follows along.


End file.
